[hatch log / mission: hyrypia] the winds that will be howling at all hours

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: New Hosts & EVERYONE
WHERE: Station 72; Hyrypia - Naerstone House
WHEN: DAY :002 - :003
SUMMARY: New hosts hatch on the Station, are briefed, then make their way to Hyrypia to join the rest of the hosts… while they attend a very important history lesson.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

STATION 72
DAY :002

NEW HATCHES
YOU WAKE UP are are suddenly changed. --No. That's not right. You're you and there's no suddenly about it. It's been a while, hasn't it? It feels like waking up from a very deep, extended sleep or surfacing up from the darkness of some wine dark sea. Nothing is different and everything is because right there in your own head there's something both familiar and strange. You know intuitively that you've been unconscious for more than just a blink of the eye.

But here you are, a small miracle of the multiverse: lying in a small, faintly hexagonal chamber with a gentle white light emanating from the surrounding walls. If you were injured during your escape, those injuries have been healed. If you were anxious or frightened or distraught, those feelings have been calmed. There's something peaceful about waking up here - like you belong. That feeling persists even as you find the tube running from the base of your neck to the compartment's rear wall.

But once the tube's disconnected? Things get loud. A wave of emotion fills that peaceful void - fear, uncertainty, relief, a sense of purpose or loneliness or anxiety. A matching dread. An easy comfort. Maybe some of these emotions are yours, but they can't all be. After the initial sensory overload, the mental buzz elongates: stretches out into a murmur like the sound of a party happening behind a nearby closed door.

You can sit up - barely -, and shift out of the pod. There’s a ladder at your feet and a little cubby just before it with anything you brought with you as well as a set of crisp, loose-fitting white clothes; while your injuries are healed, whatever you’re wearing is in the exact state it was before. Maybe it's time for a change? Drop down the ladder to the floor of the Nesting Deck and you’ll find you’re not alone.In fact there are lots of you and none of them are the strangers they should be. Some even seems like people you've known for a very long time.They are as familiar as this place you've never been is.

Welcome to Station 72. Beyond this room it's quiet and still, feeling for all the world like a hollow shell.

--Or it does until a voice separates itself from the white noise in your head:


BRIEFING
THE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD isn't really a voice at all. It's the warm tang of camaraderie, tinged with a flash of impatience like ticking hands on a clock face and a flicker of wonder: a falling star. It says:

( My, you're all very fresh aren't you? Unfortunately, the multiverse waits for no spring chicken. Once you've figured out which way's up, won't you all join us? )
Join 'us' where is the question. And yet, once you're ready to meet the owner of the voice in your mind, your footsteps simply lead you there naturally. Two strangers sit in a small circular briefing room - a tall being covered in short brown fur with a rigid demeanor, and a pale alien with yellow washed frills at her jaw and throat who is smiling cheerfully.

"Hey there, sunshine," says Rhan, her frills humming as she speaks. "Why don't you take a seat so we can get started?"

[ooc note: please see here for the catch-all briefing thread]


THE STATION
WITH A LITTLE UNDER 24 HOURS before it's time to make the trip to Hyrypia, this is as good an opportunity as you're going to get to familiarize yourself with Station 72 before you leave it. There's plenty to see, but a distinct lack of people to make conversation with. It's lonely and quiet and there's a sensation of dust gathering even where there is none. Maybe studying the briefing files on your databank and going over your mission kit is the most proactive distraction, but if not? Well there's plenty of places to get lost...

HYRYPIA - NAERSTONE HOUSE
DAY :003

MEETING
A SINGLE SHIP LANDS in a field the color of burnished gold, returning to the place it had until late the night before occupied. It's carefully inserted beside dozens of other spacecraft bearing more than faint similarities, though each has its own unique aesthetic. When the gangplank drops, the loud engines powering down, it reveals--

New hosts. Seven fresh faces - obscured as they are in layers of intricate fabric - are led down the gangplank by Rhan There to greet them is a number of other hosts - any who answered to the sweet crystalline ring of Collector’s voice in their heads hardly a half hour earlier, speaking with certainty born of truth:

( Rhan and Siva’co are returning. Shall we see what stories they have to tell? )

Despite the solidarity that both combined groups provide, there's a feeling of eyes here. A number of guards along the edge of the shuttle field are watching the reunion like hawks. Better perhaps to return to the apartments where they'll be able to speak in private and teach the new hosts what it is that has been learned since their arrival. --Or explore, for those who prefer not to rest. Naerstone House's grounds are vast and they are almost entirely open to the parties of the pilgrims to explore.

THE PERFORMANCE
AS THE SINGLE RED SUN of Hyrypia dips low on the horizon there is a long, low, mournful sound. A deep bell-- or a horn? Or maybe it's something else entirely, but the call is heard and answered as any nearby servants inform the guests of the house:

“There will be a performance of the First Journey in a quarter turn. All guests are invited to attend.”

There's no mystery as to where the event is occurring. A steady trail of guests and servants lead out past the Veranda into the central garden where a number of pillars have been mounted and a large tiered platform festooned with with numerous draped curtains and abstract representations of trees and mountains - a great stage - now sits. The stage is surrounded by numerous low settees and tables, piles of thick cushions and richly colored rugs around which guests can be found clustered, lounging while sipping thick, syrupy drinks.

Each table is illuminated only by a single glowing orb at its center. Otherwise, as the sun sets it pitches the garden into darkness as even the castle itself has been left unlit. There are no lights in distant windows or on Naerstone House's high walls; these small orbs and the glitter of stars in the black sky might very well be the only points of light in the whole universe.

The allotted time passes and the performance begins. A sun rises over the stage. It's a much larger, more intricate glowing orb and reveals a number of players dressed far more simply than the Hyrypians the hosts have met. They wear complex machine masks upon their faces that shutter into different expressions as their hands flitter across their faces: dramatic caricatures to accompany the droning sound of their singing voices as they unfold the tale at the center of the performance - the one which drives this pilgrimage and for the Nest's very presence in the universe at all. It's the story of lost Rabadoceans coming to a planet near barren intent on brutalizing them - about loss and hardship until finally a single player separates from the rest. The orb of the sun over the stage turns, it's mechanical face shifting and resetting to indicate the passage of time as the very central platform of the stage begins to turn so that this lone player might walk. And walk. And walk through deserts and scrub land, through dark woods and dark caves, against the wind and with it. Through it all, the orb over the stage slowly lowers until at last this lone player can take it in their hands.

It cracks like an egg and brilliance streams from it. Braziers catch fire in the darkness. The garden illuminates itself. Every light in Naerstone House comes to life.

With that, the silence of the crowd breaks. There is applause -- each culture in its own unique fashion -- and then there is a rise of chattering conversation as the guests are served several small dishes and talk about the show they’ve just seen - and whatever possible clues it might give to the pilgrimage they themselves would soon be undertaking.

---

((OOC Notes: This is the hatch log for all new hosts as well as the evening's performance. Feel free to make your own logs and posts additional to this if you care to. You can find a more detailed overview of the host hatching process HERE and additional setting information about the Station HERE. Please be sure to review the MISSION: HYRYPIA ooc information. If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • SETTING • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

phone tags y ikes

[unsea]

Good to know.

[ he's an extremist at heart sorry ]

What information do we have about the factions and their immediate stances regarding the war?

[isorropia]

Well, aren't you just on top of things. Siva'co, I suspect this one may have snuck back in with all the fresh eggs.

[Rhan gives her partner a sly sidelong glance, thought clearly expects absolutely no reciprocation and she's quick to realign her attention on the Darkling.]

There are naturally about two dozen minor factions with various interests and investment in making friends with the whoever gets their grubby paws on the Nectar. But excepting those? Carpathan is your run of the mill highly structured society which has for many, many years relied on the subjugation of others to power their empire. If I were more prone to hyperbole and big, grandiose statements, I might even call them comically dark. [Get it? Because their planet is in a constant state of night? Karn, she's hilarious.]

Meanwhile, Merad has a long history of trade and colonization - namely, absorbing other, smaller societies into their own. Sounds much kinder, but I feel like we must all certainly know how imperialism works, yes? The Meradan and Carpathans were actually who started the Polesian War over some trade line and territory ownership disputes. The Descendants, who are all very much about nature and the balance of the universe and blahblahblah, once were attempting to force the two to come to a peaceful settlement. But funnily enough throwing your weight around in the name of harmony and tranquility is still throwing one's weight around.

Merad took over Carpathan trade routes, Carpathan's army took it back, the Everwood stuck their nose where it didn't belong and got smacked for it which they took as a personal offense against their rightful place as the last true Rabadoceans and here we all are. Most immediately, all three factions are running perilously low on their own resource supplies for fueling their shipping and so on. Without that, they lose ground in the way which almost certainly means being absorbed and ratified into whichever faction is nearest or strongest. We believe once someone gets rights to the Nectar, they'll be more than capable off either peacefully ending the war by annexing the two other major powers or - you know.

[Rhan mimes an explosion with both her hands.]

They'll simply clean the slate.

[isorropia]

[The answer seems to please him- or at least not to irk him. He would prefer to avoid another shouting-match that has no purpose or satisfying conclusion.]

Their immediate stances are functionally the same as they have been for centuries. They all believe that their methods are correct and show little signs of capitulating. Beyond that, no party wishes to lose- as Rhan says, it is highly improbable that they will find anything but defeat if they do not succeed in procuring this resource. There has been no indication of the possibility of a cease-fire before this situation comes to a head.

[unsea]

[ he holds his opinions close to him, and has a habit of being difficult to dissuade from them - if he gets it into his head that he is Correct!! ]

Siva'co. You are a -- military man? As I am. What have been the faction's tactics in war? Subterfuge? Direct conflict?

[isorropia]

[Consider her rudely interrupting.]

A little of column A, a little of column B from all sides. The Carpathans like spies and large shows of force; Merad prefers more guerrilla warfare tactics but tend to be awfully versatile. The Descendants are... traditionalist. Which means quite a lot of choking commerce and generally locking off the other two from valuable commercial lines that would allow them to retaliate more effectively. Of course, all of them trade in these metaphorical goods.

[She winks at him - or at the room at large. It's difficult to say which.]

[unsea]

[ i mean ok fine??? ]

Would you say these tactics would make one faction or the other identifiable?

For example, if someone wished to undermine their efforts, or draw attention to them -- would this be significant enough to do such a thing.

[unsea]

It is what I would do.

[ a tired smile, full of teeth and experience. he's fought a three-front war before, for years and years. ]

So, this is the history of the war, the players are arranged well in advance -- what do they offer, for these Nectar rights?

[ he will ask all his questions, before he weighs in - his attention balanced between rhan, siva'co, the newer hosts who are resistant ]

[isorropia]

Protection.

[He does not have any more compunction answering for Rhan than she had answering for him. Whether this is a trait born of broodmates or born simply of rudeness is less than clear.]

While until now the fact that no one has discovered how to harvest the Nectar without Hyrypian assistance has afforded them safety, the three factions are becoming more desperate by the day- as are the fringe elements. They are running out of fuel. If they aren't given it then they will eventually resort to taking it, even if in the end they only succeed in denying their enemies. The Hyrypians know this as well as anyone else.

[It may seem unlikely that any people would burn themselves to ruin their enemies, but he did not seem to doubt it.]

[unsea]

Protection.

[ he considers it -- after the enemy is discovered: undermine the faction, strip away their value and worth, play upon their desperation, take from them the base upon which they've built their offering. force one faction to act upon that desperation and allow them all to battle among themselves?

it's a work in progress. ] If you had to bet on the faction this enemy we share would infiltrate - which would you say?

[ idle curiosity, more to gauge these two than anything ]

[isorropia]

If we had an opinion on that you would find it on the datapad.

[Obviously.]

All three of them are worthy of suspicion, but we are only four. Our time in this place has spread us thin as is, so we have not had the resources to additionally infiltrate three separate galactic empires.

[The words seem sarcastic, but there's no hint of sarcasm in his voice or his mind. Nor does he does not seem flattered that the Darkling- or any host- could place such faith in them. In fact, he seems only flatly irritated.]

This is one of few times that all of the major players will be in one location, with comparatively minimal security. Even then, we suspect we alone will not succeed. That is why we have enlisted the assistance of cadets. [the word isn't quite right- it echoes slightly, children, perhaps?- but the mind settles on what it must.]

[unsea]

[ SASS. ]

I asked for a wager. Surely even a soldier like you will gamble to pass the time.

[ there is only thick amusement in his voice, as he continues to take his notes - on both the mission at hand and the more "colorful" members of the station. already, he misses the daisy-bright awareness of carata, in comparison to some of the newer minds. addled, angry. anyways. ]

-- I know how I would perform this task. But, first..

[ he's also listening in to the woman across the table... ]

[isorropia]

No. I do not enjoy games of chance. If you want a blind guess, make one yourself.

[The words snap out like a lash, without hesitation or tempering. It is clear enough he considers this discussion at least ended.]